"Who is wise and understanding among you?
Let him show good conduct that his works
are done in the meekness of wisdom.
But if you have bitter envy
and self-seeking in your hearts,
do not boast and lie against the truth.
This wisdom does not descend from above,
but is earthly, sensual, demonic.
For where envy and self-seeking exist,
confusion and every evil thing are there.
But the wisdom that is from above is first pure,
then peaceable, gentle, willing to yield,
full of mercy and good fruit,
without partiality and without hypocrisy."
Monday, January 2, 2012
Plane Etiquette
A sneeze pregnant with disease,
she’s reading a dirty magazine
on the plane, in the seat next to me,
dropping snot-crusted tissue
and rubbing her face
all over her sleeves
I dream only hypothetically,
Ma’m, if you could please,
release your nose grease
away from me, preferably
in the space between
the garbage and your teeth,
because I can already barely breathe
something so calm, so serene
she would gladly believe my
mild gesture of courtesy
like a hygienic call from a referee,
because on this plane, when all
we see are clouds and a hint of blue
from the surface of the sea, we have to
plead silently: Please don’t bother me,
or else you’ll get what you see:
an angry man with gritted teeth
within arms reach of the door
labeled “Emergency”!
she’s reading a dirty magazine
on the plane, in the seat next to me,
dropping snot-crusted tissue
and rubbing her face
all over her sleeves
I dream only hypothetically,
Ma’m, if you could please,
release your nose grease
away from me, preferably
in the space between
the garbage and your teeth,
because I can already barely breathe
something so calm, so serene
she would gladly believe my
mild gesture of courtesy
like a hygienic call from a referee,
because on this plane, when all
we see are clouds and a hint of blue
from the surface of the sea, we have to
plead silently: Please don’t bother me,
or else you’ll get what you see:
an angry man with gritted teeth
within arms reach of the door
labeled “Emergency”!
Want
Grandma moved to Los Angeles
last summer, she said
she would miss us so much
she was only going for the weather
and the ocean and bloody mary’s
in the mornings on the beach,
all-you-can-eat-crab
and oysters, oh! unlimited
oysters on Mondays
down by the pier.
We should visit.
On the phone her voice
sounds happy. She lives
by her sister and her last brother.
They play cards all day
and watch Egyptian dramas
on satellite while cracking
dried watermelon seeds
between their teeth,
and church a few times a week,
it gives her a sense of peace.
At home mom says the house
feels cold since grandma’s space
heater is never on anymore.
But I know,
she misses dinner
being ready when she and dad
come home.
last summer, she said
she would miss us so much
she was only going for the weather
and the ocean and bloody mary’s
in the mornings on the beach,
all-you-can-eat-crab
and oysters, oh! unlimited
oysters on Mondays
down by the pier.
We should visit.
On the phone her voice
sounds happy. She lives
by her sister and her last brother.
They play cards all day
and watch Egyptian dramas
on satellite while cracking
dried watermelon seeds
between their teeth,
and church a few times a week,
it gives her a sense of peace.
At home mom says the house
feels cold since grandma’s space
heater is never on anymore.
But I know,
she misses dinner
being ready when she and dad
come home.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
St. Paul's epistle to the Romans 9:18-24
Therefore God has mercy on whom He wills,
and whom He wills He hardens.
You will say to me then,
"Why does He still find fault?
For who has resisted His will?"
But indeed, O man, who are you
to reply against God?
Will the thing formed say to him who formed it,
"Why have you made me like this?"
Does not the potter have the power over the clay,
from the same lump to make one vessel
for honor and another for dishonor?
What if God, wanting to show His wrath
and to make His power known,
endured with much longsuffering
the vessels of wrath prepared for destruction,
and that He might make known
the riches of His glory on the vessels of mercy,
which He had prepared beforehand for glory,
even us
whom He called not only of the Jews,
but also of the Gentiles?
and whom He wills He hardens.
You will say to me then,
"Why does He still find fault?
For who has resisted His will?"
But indeed, O man, who are you
to reply against God?
Will the thing formed say to him who formed it,
"Why have you made me like this?"
Does not the potter have the power over the clay,
from the same lump to make one vessel
for honor and another for dishonor?
What if God, wanting to show His wrath
and to make His power known,
endured with much longsuffering
the vessels of wrath prepared for destruction,
and that He might make known
the riches of His glory on the vessels of mercy,
which He had prepared beforehand for glory,
even us
whom He called not only of the Jews,
but also of the Gentiles?
Thursday, December 22, 2011
"Who Says Words WIth My Mouth?" by Rumi
All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
******
We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups.
That's fine with us. Every morning
we glow and in the evening we glow again.
They say there's no future for us. They're right.
Which is fine with us.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.
This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent, sitting in this aviary.
The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?
Who looks out with my eyes? What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.
If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord, and I can't leave that way.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
This poetry. I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.
******
We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups.
That's fine with us. Every morning
we glow and in the evening we glow again.
They say there's no future for us. They're right.
Which is fine with us.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
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